


Theoretical Knowledge

by Hllangel



Series: How to be Like Myself [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I don't think I could do it," Harry says, taking a drink and cuddling puppy close while he talks. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>There's not really anything else to say at this point because they've said all of this before.</i>
</p><p>Timestamp to <i>These Cards I've Been Dealt</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theoretical Knowledge

**Author's Note:**

> This actually came first, and led into [These Cards I've Been Dealt](). But I'm posting this as a timestamp because it's both (A) in Nick's perspective, not Harry's, and (B) hugely different in tone from what the finished product of _Cards_ turned into.

_Before_

"I don't think I could do it," Harry says, taking a drink and cuddling puppy close while he talks. He's had about half a bottle of wine, by which Nick means they've just opened the second one; but if he's honest Harry's definitely had more than his fair share. 

Nick nods and takes a larger than average sip of his own drink, reaching for the new bottle and topping himself up, not really caring that he's mixing two different wines. It'll even out in the end anyway. Well maybe not, but that's the theory anyway. 

"Theory is fine and all, and I've done plenty of theoretical testing," Harry continues, with a smirk and a rude gesture. Nick loves this Harry, the one who isn't making sure to keep his best face forward, to be polite at all times, who gives his leftovers to the fucking paparazzi who are chasing him down the street. "But I can't do more. Not while we're still touring. Not with all the--" he waves his arm around in vague sloppy motions, but Nick knows what he means. "--everything. There's too much out there and all the girls get shit and you get shit just because you're my friend."

The silent, _gay_ part of that sentence rings in Nick's ears anyway. 

"Just so you know," Nick says, before he can stop himself. _In vino veritas_ , or whatever, and Nick is both a terrible liar and a terrible secret keeper and saying anything else right now would be both. "You are worth any amount of shit, Styles." 

Harry's lips quirk up in a half smile. "So are you. And, like, I can take what they say about me. S'part of the job. Not my favorite part, but it's in the package. I signed up for it. But I don't like that Caroline got so much crap. And Eleanor. And Sophia. And whoever Niall is with this week. And Perrie, but it's her job too so she can fend for herself. And you." 

The list takes a long time to come tumbling out of Harry's lips, as though he's recalling each and every nasty tweet or Instagram comment as he says each of their names. Maybe he is. Harry is unfortunately good at remembering things like that.

There's not really anything else to say at this point because they've said all of this before. But sometimes Harry's attention catches on a comment on twitter or a gossip article quoting "inside sources" that are as close to them as the summit of Everest, and the confessions and regret and undiluted sorrow pour out of Harry as though the wounds are still fresh. They probably are; they probably never get the chance to heal. 

When it happens, the only thing to do is apply alcohol like a plaster to try to stem the bleeding. Nick has the routine down by now. He's fairly sure the lads do, too. Or maybe Nick is the only one privy to this corner of Harry. Nick both hates and loves that idea, that Harry is public property but also _Nick's_.

The thing is, Nick is terrible at secrets. Truly, properly terrible. He's on the radio for nearly twenty hours each week, very early in the morning when half the time he's only half awake. He says everything that he sees, and he sees Harry a lot. Not in person because Harry is still out on tour for most of the year. But he's a pop DJ in his half awake, unfiltered state and his team like to tease him. His listeners like to tease him, too, and Ian has taken to constantly googling Harry's face on the studio computers. 

As a result, Nick can never quite shake the all-encompassing fog that is Harry Styles. He invades Nick's life even when he's not here, and sometimes the only reason Nick hasn't slipped up and called Harry more than _my friend_ on air is because he's _not_.

So they do this thing when they're alone. Where they're cuddled up on Nick's sofa, Puppy in their laps. It always starts with a _what if_. 

_What if we went for that snog. What if we were dating. What if I came out._

And they always end up back here, halfway pissed on good wine, while Harry doesn't manage to hold back tears. If they're for past damages or future, it doesn't matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr! [Glitterbootsandyellowshorts](http://glitterbootsandyellowshorts.tumblr.com)


End file.
